UC-NRLF 


COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDIS 


John  Swett 


John  Swett 


THE 


HENRY    W.    LONGFELLOW. 


^Illustrated 


BOSTON: 

JAMES    R.  OSGOOD    AND    COMPANY, 

Late  Ticknor  &  Fields,  and  Fields,  Osgood,  &•  Co, 

1876. 


Copyright,  1858,  by 

HENRY  w.  LONGFELLOW. 

-EDUCATION! 


University  Press  :  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 
Cambridge. 


CONTENTS. 

Page 
I.    MILES  STANDISH 7 

II.  LOVE  AND  FRIENDSHIP         ....  13 

III.  THE  LOVER'S  ERRAND 20 

IV.  JOHN  ALDEN 36 

V.  THE  SAILING  OF  THE  MAY  FLOWER       .       .  48 

VI.  PRISCILLA       .        .       .       .       .       .       .        61 

VII.  THE  MARCH  or  MILES  STANDISH    .       .       .70 

VIII.  THE  SPINNING-WHEEL  .....        77 

IX.  THE  WEDDING-DAY 87 


54? 686 


THE 


COURTSHIP  OP  MILES  STANDISH. 


i. 

MILES  STANDISH. 

the  Old  Colony  days,  in  Plymouth 

the  land  of  the  Pilgrims, 
To  and  fro  in  a  room  of  his  simple 

and  primitive  dwelling, 
Clad  in  doublet  and  hose,  and  boots  of  Cordo- 
van leather, 
Strode,  with  a  martial  air,  Miles  Standish  the 

Puritan  Captain. 
Buried  in  thought  he  seemed,  with  his  hands 

behind  him,  and  pausing 
Ever  and  anon  to  behold  his  glittering  weapons 

of  warfare, 

Hanging  in  shining  array  along  the  walls  of 
the  chamber,  — 


8      THE  OOUKTS3I5?  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Cutlass  and  corselet  pf  steel,  and  his  trusty 
word  of  Damascus, 

Curved  at'  thfe  'point  and  inscribed  with  its  mys- 
tical Arabic  sentence, 

While  underneath,  in  a  corner,  were  fowling- 
piece,  musket,  and  matchlock. 

Short  of  stature  he  was,  but  strongly  built  and 
athletic, 

Broad  in  the   shoulders,   deep-chested,  with 
muscles  and  sinews  of  iron; 

Brown  as  a  nut  was  his  face,  but  his  russet 
beard  was  already 

Flaked  with  patches  of  snow,  as  hedges  some- 
times in  November. 

Near  him  was  seated  John  Alden,  his  friend, 
and  household  companion, 

Writing  with  diligent  speed  at  a  table  of  pine 
by  the  window ; 

Fair-haired,  azure-eyed,  with  delicate   Saxon 
complexion, 

Having  the  dew  of  his  youth,  and  the  beauty 
thereof,  as  the  captives 

Whom   Saint   Gregory   saw,   and    exclaimed, 

"  Not  Angles,  but  Angels." 
-Youngest  of  all  was  he  of  the  men  who  came 
in  the  May  Flower. 

Suddenly  breaking  the  silence,  the  diligent 
scribe  interrupting, 


MILES    STANDISH.  9 

Spake,  in  the  pride  of  his  heart,  Miles  Standish 

the  Captain  of  Plymouth. 
"  Look  at  these  arms,"  he  said,  "  the  warlike 

weapons  that  hang  here 

Burnished  and  bright  and  clean,  as  if  for  pa- 
rade or  inspection ! 
Tins  is  the  sword  of  Damascus  I  fought  with 

in  Flanders  ;  this  breastplate, 
Well  I  remember  the  day  !  once  saved  my  life 

in  a  skirmish ; 
Here  in  front  you  can  see  the  very  dint  of  the 

bullet 
Fired  point-blank  at  my  heart  by  a   Spanish 

arcabucero. 
Had  it  not  been  of  sheer  steel,  the  forgotten 

bones  of  Miles  Standish 
Would  at  this  moment  be  mould,  in  their  grave 

in  the  Flemish  morasses." 
Thereupon  answered  John  Aldeu,  but  looked 

not  up  from  his  writing : 
"Truly  the  breath  of  the  Lord  hath  slackened 

the  speed  of  the  bullet ; 
He  in  his   mercy  preserved  you,  to  be   our 

shield  and  our  weapon !  " 
Still  the   Captain   continued,   unheeding  the 

words  of  the  stripling : 
"  See,  how  bright  they  are  burnished,  as  if  in 

an  arsenal  hanging ; 


10     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

That  is  because  I  have  done  it  myself,  and  not 

left  it  to  others. 
Serve  yourself,  would  you  be  well  served,  is 

an  excellent  adage; 
So  I  take  care  of  my  arms,  as  you  of  your  pens 

and  your  inkhorn. 
Then,  too,  there  are  my  soldiers,  my  great, 

invincible  army, 
Twelve  men,  all  equipped,  having  each  his  rest 

and  his  matchlock, 
Eighteen  shillings  a  month,  together  with  diet 

and  pillage, 
And,  like  Csesar,  I  know  the  name  of  each  of 

my  soldiers ! " 
This  he  said  with  a  smile,  that  danced  in  his 

eyes,  as  the  sunbeams 
Dance  on  the  waves  of  the  sea,  and  vanish 

again  in  a  moment. 

Alden  laughed  as  he  wrote,  and  still  the  Cap- 
tain continued  : 
"  Look !    you  can  see  from  this  window  my 

brazen  howitzer  planted 
High  on  the  roof  of  the  church,  a  preacher 

who  speaks  to  the  purpose, 
Steady,  straightforward,  and  strong,  with  irre- 
sistible logic, 
Orthodox,  flashing  conviction  right   into  the 

hearts  of  the  heathen. 


MILES    STANDISH.  11 

Now  we  are  ready,  I  think,  for  any  assault  of 

the  Indians ; 
Let  them  come,  if  they  like,  and  the  sooner 

they  try  it  the  better,  — 
Let  them  come  if  they  like,  be  it  sagamore, 

sachem,  or  pow-wow, 
Aspinet,  Samoset,  Corbitant,  Squanto,  or  To- 

kamahamon ! " 

Long  at  the  window  he  stood,  and  wistfully 

gazed  on  the  landscape, 
Washed   with   a   cold  gray  mist,  the  vapory 

breath  of  the  east-wind, 
Forest  and  meadow  and  hill,  and  the  steel-blue 

rim  of  the  ocean, 
Lying  silent  and  sad,  in  the  afternoon  shadows 

and  sunshine. 
Over  his   countenance   flitted  a  shadow  like 

those  on  the  landscape, 
Gloom  intermingled  with  light ;  and  his  voice 

was  subdued  with  emotion, 
Tenderness,  pity,  regret,  as  after  a  pause  he 

proceeded : 
"Yonder  there,  on  the   hill  by  the  sea,  lies 

buried  Rose  Standish  ; 
Beautiful  rose  of  love,  that  bloomed  for  me  by 

the  wayside ! 
She  was  the  first  to  die  of  all  who  came  in  the 

May  Elower ! 


12      THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Green  above  her  is  growing  the  field  of  wheat 

we  have  sown  there. 
Better  to   hide  from  the   Indian   scouts  the 

graves  of  our  people, 
Lest  they  should  count  them  and  see  how  many 

already  have  perished  !  " 
Sadly  his  face  he  averted,  and  strode  up  and 

down,  and  was  thoughtful. 

Fixed  to  the  opposite  wall  was  a  shelf  of 
books,  and  among  them 

Prominent  three,  distinguished  alike  for  bulk 
and  for  binding ; 

Bariffe's  Artillery  Guide,  and  the  Commenta- 
ries of  Csesar 

Out  of  the  Latin  translated  by  Arthur  Goldinge 
of  London, 

And,  as  if  guarded  by  these,  between  them  was 
standing  the  Bible. 

Musing  a  moment  before  them,  Miles  Standish 
paused,  as  if  doubtful 

Which  of  the  three  he  should  choose  for  his 
consolation  and  comfort, 

Whether  the  wars  of  the  Hebrews,  the  famous 
campaigns  of  the  Romans, 

Or  the  Artillery  practice,  designed  for  belliger- 
ent Christians. 

Finally  down  from  its  shelf  he  dragged  the 
ponderous  Roman, 


LOVE    AND    FRIENDSHIP.  13 

Seated  himself  at  the  window,  and  opened  the 
book,  and  in  silence 

Turned  o'er  the  well-worn  leaves,  where  thumb- 
marks  thick  on  the  margin, 

Like  the  trample  of  feet,  proclaimed  the  battle 
was  hottest. 

Nothing  was  heard  in  the  room  but  the  hurry- 
ing pen  of  the  stripling, 

Busily  writing  epistles  important,  to  go  by  the 
May  Flower, 

Ready  to  sail  on  the  morrow,  or  next  day  at 
latest,  God  willing ! 

Homeward  bound  with  the  tidings  of  all  that 
terrible  winter, 

Letters  written  by  Alden,  and  full  of  the  name 
of  Priscilla, 

Full  of  the  name  and  the  fame  of  the  Puritan 
maiden  Priscilla ! 


II. 

LOVE  AND  FRIENDSHIP. 

NOTHING  was  heard  in  the  room  but  the  hur- 
rying pen  of  the  stripling, 

Or  an  occasional  sigh  from  the  laboring  heart 
of  the  Captain, 

Reading  the  marvellous  words  and  achieve- 
ments of  Julius  Csesar. 


14     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

After  a  while  he  exclaimed,  as  he  smote  with 

his  hand,  palm  downwards, 
Heavily  on  the  page  :  "A  wonderful  man  was 

this  Caesar ! 
-  You  are  a  writer,  and  I  am  a  fighter,  but  here 

is  a  fellow 
Who  could  both  write  and  fight,  and  in  both 

was  equally  skilful !  " 
Straightway  answered  and  spake  John  Alden, 

the  comely,  the  youthful : 
"  Yes,  he  was  equally  skilled,  as  you  say,  with 

his  pen  and  his  weapons. 
Somewhere  have  I  read,  but  where  I  forget, 

he  could  dictate 
Seven  letters  at  once,  at  the  same  time  writing 

his  memoirs." 
"  Truly,"  continued  the  Captain,  not  heeding 

or  hearing 'the  other,  — 
"Truly  a  wonderful  man  was  Caius   Julius 

Csesar ! 

Better  be  first,  he  said,  in  a  little  Iberian  village, 
Than  be  second  in  Rome,  and  I  think  he  was 

right  when  he  said  it. 
Twice  was  he  married  before  he  was  twenty, 

and  many  times  after ; 
Battles  five  hundred  he  fought,  and  a  thousand 

cities  he  conquered ; 
He,  too,  fought  in  Elanders,  as  he  himself  has 

recorded ; 


LOVE    AND    FRIENDSHIP.  15 

[Finally  he  was  stabbed  by  his  friend,  the  ora- 
tor Brutus ! 
Now,  do  you  know  what  he  did  on  a  certain 

occasion  in  Flanders, 
When  the  rear-guard  of  his  army  retreated, 

1^  front  giving  way  too, 
And  the  immortal  Twelfth  Legion  was  crowded 

so  closely  together 
There  was  no  room  for  their  swords  ?     Why, 

he  seized  a  shield  from  a  soldier, 
Put  himself  straight  at  the  head  of  his  troops, 

and  commanded  the  captains, 
Calling  on  each  by  his  name,  to  order  forward 

the  ensigns ; 
Then  to  widen  the  ranks,  and  give  more  room 

for  their  weapons  ; 
So  he  won  the  day,  the  battle  of  something-or- 

other. 
That 's  what  I  always  say ;  if  you  wish  a  thing 

to  be  well  done, 
You  must  do  it  yourself,  you  must  not  leave  it 

to  others !  " 

All  was  silent  again  ;  the  Captain  continued 
his  reading. 

Nothing  was  heard  in  the  room  but  the  hurry- 
ing pen  of  the  stripling 

Writing  epistles  important  to  go  next  day  by 
the  May  Mower, 


16  THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Tilled  with  the  name   and  the  fame  of  the 

Puritan  maiden  Priscilla ; 
Every  sentence    began    or    closed   with  the 

name  of  Priscilla, 
Till  the  treacherous  pen,  to  which  he  confided 

the  secret, 
Strove  to  betray  it  by  singing  and  shouting  the 

name  of  Priscilla ! 
Finally  closing  his  book,  with  a  bang  of  the 

ponderous  cover, 
Sudden  and  loud  as  the  sound  of  a  soldier 

grounding  his  musket, 
Thus  to  the  young  man  spake  Miles  Standish 

the  Captain  of  Plymouth  : 
"  When  you  have  finished  your  work,  I  have 

something  important  to  tell  you. 
Be  not  however  in  haste ;  I  can  wait ;  I  shall 

not  be  impatient !  " 
Straightway  Alden  replied,  as  he  folded  the  last 

of  his  letters, 

Pushing  his  papers  aside,  and  giving  respect- 
ful attention : 
"  Speak ;  for  whenever  you  speak,  I  am  always 

ready  to  listen, 
Always  ready  to  hear  whatever  pertains  to 

Miles  Standish.3' 
Thereupon  answered  the  Captain,  embarrassed, 

and  culling  his  phrases : 


LOVE    AND    FRIENDSHIP.  17 

"  'T  is  not  good  for  a  man  to  be  alone,  say  the 

Scriptures. 
This  I  have  said  before,  and  again  and  again  I 

repeat  it ; 
Every  hour  in  the  day,  I  think  it,  and  feel  it, 

and  say  it. 
Since   Irose   Standish  died,  my  life  has  been 

weary  and  dreary, 
Sick  at  heart  have  I  been,  beyond  the  healing 

of  friendship. 
Oft  in  my  lonely  hours  have  I  thought  of  the 

maiden  Priscilla. 
She  is  alone  in  the  world;    her  father  and 

mother  and  brother 
Died  in  the  winter  together ;  I  saw  her  going 

and  coming, 
Now  to  the  grave  of  the  dead,  and  now  to  the 

bed  of  the  dying, 
Patient,  courageous,  and  strong,  and  said  to 

myself,  that  if  ever 
There  were  angels  on  earth,  as  there  are  angels 

in  heaven, 
Two  have  I  seen  and  known ;  and  the  angel 

whose  name  is  Priscilla 
Holds  in  my  desolate  life  the  place  which  the 

other  abandoned. 
Long  have  I  cherished  the  thought,  but  never 

have  dared  to  reveal  it, 


18      THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISII. 

Being  a  coward  in  this,  though  valiant  enough 

for  the  most  part. 
Go  to  the  damsel  Priscilla,  the  loveliest  maiden 

of  Plymouth, 
Say  that  a  blunt  old  Captain,  a  man  not  of 

words  but  of  actions, 
Offers  his  hand  and  his  heart,  the  foand  and 

heart  of  a  soldier. 
Not  in  these  words,  you  know,  but  this  in  short 

is  my  meaning ; 

I  am  a  maker  of  war,  and  not  a  maker  of  phrases. 
You,  who  are  bred  as  a  scholar,  can  say  it  in 

elegant  language, 
Such  as  you  read  in  your  books  of  the  pleadings 

and  wooings  of  lovers, 
Such  as  you  think  best  adapted  to  win  the  heart 

of  a  maiden." 

When  he  had  spoken,  John  Alden,  the  fair- 
haired,  taciturn  stripling, 

All  aghast  at  his  words,  surprised,  embarrassed, 
bewildered, 

Trying  to  mask  his  dismay  by  treating  the  sub- 
ject with  lightness, 

Trying  to  smile,  and  yet  feeling  his  heart  stand 
still  in  his  bosom, 

Just  as  a  timepiece  stops  in  a  house  that  is 
stricken  by  lightning, 


LOVE   AND    FRIENDSHIP.  19 

Thus  made  answer  and  spake,  or  rather  stam- 
mered than  answered : 
ff  Such  a  message  as  that,  I  am  sure  I  should 

mangle  and  mar  it ; 
If  you  would  have  it  well  done,  —  I  am  only 

repeating  your  maxim,  — 
You  must  do  it  yourself,  you  must  not  leave  it 

to  others ! " 
But  with  the  air  of  a  man  whom  nothing  can 

turn  from  his  purpose, 
Gravely  shaking  his  head,  made  answer  the 

Captain  of  Plymouth  : 
"  Truly  the  maxim  is  good,  and  I  do  not  mean 

to  gainsay  it ; 
But  we  must  use  it  discreetly,  and  not  waste 

powder  for  nothing. 
Now,  as  I  said  before,  I  was  never  a  maker  of 

phrases. 
I  can  march  up  to  a  fortress  and  summon  the 

place  to  surrender, 

But  march  up  to  a  woman  with  such  a  pro- 
posal, I  dare  not. 
I  'm  not  afraid  of  bullets,  nor  shot  from  the 

mouth  of  a  cannon, 
But  of  a  thundering  '  No ! '  point-blank  from 

the  mouth  of  a  woman, 
That  I  confess  1 7m  afraid  of,  nor  am  I  ashamed 

to  confess  it ! 


20     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

So  you  must  grant  my  request,  for  you  are  an 

elegant  scholar, 
Having  the  graces-  of  speech,  and  skill  in  the 

turning  of  phrases." 
Taking  the  hand  of  his  friend,  who  still  was 

reluctant  and  doubtful, 
Holding  it  long  in  his  own,  and  pressing  it 

kindly,  he  added : 
"  Though  I  have  spoken  thus  lightly,  yet  deep 

is  the  feeling  that  prompts  me ; 
Surely  you  cannot  refuse  what  I  ask  in  the 

name  of  our  friendship  !  " 
Then  made  answer  John  Alden  :  "  The  name 

of  friendship  is  sacred ; 
What  you  demand  in  that  name,  I  have  not  the 

power  to  deny  you  !  " 
So  the  strong  will  prevailed,   subduing  and 

moulding  the  gentler, 
Friendship  prevailed  over  love,  and  Alden  went 

on  his  errand. 


III. 

THE   LOVER'S  ERRAND. 

So  the  strong  will  prevailed,  and  Alden  went  on 

his  errand, 
Out  of  the  street  of  the  village,  and  into  the 

paths  of  the  forest, 


THE  LOVER'S 'ERRAND.  23 

Into  the  tranquil  woods,  where  bluebirds  and 

robins  were  building 
Towns  in  the  populous  trees,  with  hanging 

gardens  of  verdure, 
Peaceful,  aerial  cities  of  joy  and  affection  and 

freedom. 

All  around  him  was  calm,  but  within  him  com- 
motion and  conflict, 
Love  contending  with  friendship,  and  self  with 

each  generous  impulse. 
To  and  fro  in  his   breast  his  thoughts  were 

heaving  and  dashing, 
As  in  a  foundering  ship,  with  every  roll  of  the 

vessel, 
Washes  the  bitter  sea,  the  merciless  surge  of 

the  ocean ! 
"  Must  I  relinquish  it  all,"  he  cried  with  a  wild 

lamentation,  — 
"  Must  I  relinquish  it  all,  the  joy,  the  hope,  the 

illusion  ? 
Was  it  for  this  I  have  loved,  and  waited,  and 

worshipped  in  silence  ? 
Was  it  for  this  I  have  followed  the  flying  feet 

and  the  shadow 
Over  the  wintry  sea,  to  the  desolate  shores  of 

New  England  ? 
Truly  the  heart  is  deceitful,  and  out  of  its  depths 

of  corruption 


24     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Rise,  like  an  exhalation,  the  misty  phantoms 
of  passion; 

Angels  of  light  they  seem,  but  are  only  delu- 
sions of  Satan. 

All  is  clear  to  me  now ;  I  feel  it,  I  see  it  dis- 
tinctly ! 

This  is  the  hand  of  the  Lord ;  it  is  laid  upon 
me  iii  anger, 

Tor  I  have  followed  too  much  the  heart's  de- 
sires and  devices, 

Worshipping  Astaroth  blindly,  and  impious 
idols  of  Baal. 

This  is  the  cross  I  must  bear ;  the  sin  and  the 
swift  retribution." 

So  through  the  Plymouth  woods  John  Alden 

went  on  his  errand  ; 
Crossing  the  brook  at  the  ford,  where  it  brawled 

over  pebble  and  shallow, 
Gathering  still,  as  he  went,  the  May-flowers 

blooming  around  him, 
Fragrant,  filling  the  air  with  a  strange  and 

wonderful  sweetness, 
Children  lost  in  the  woods,  and  covered  with 

leaves  in  their  slumber. 
"  Puritan  flowers,"  he  said,  "  and  the  type  of 

Puritan  maidens, 
Modest  and  simple  and  sweet,  the  very  type  of 

Priscilla ! 


THE    LOVER'S    ERRAND.  25 

So  I  will  take  them  to  her;  to  Priscilla  the 

May-flower  of  Plymouth, 
Modest  and  simple  and  sweet,  as  a  parting  gift 

will  I  take  them  ; 
Breathing  their  silent  farewells,  as  they  fade 

and  wither  and  perish, 
Soon  to  be  thrown  away  as  is  the  heart  of  the 

giver." 
So  through  the  Plymouth  woods  John  Alden 

went  on  his  errand ; 
Came  to  an  open  space,  and  saw  the  disk  of 

the  ocean, 
Sailless,  sombre  and  cold  with  the  comfortless 

breath  of  the  east -wind ; 
Saw  the  new-built  house,  and  people  at  work 

in  a  meadow ; 
Heard,  as  he  drew  near  the  door,  the  musical 

voice  of  Priscilla 
Singing  the  hundredth  Psalm,  the  grand  old 

Puritan  anthem, 
Music  that  Luther  sang  to  the  sacred  words  of 

the  Psalmist, 
Full  of  the  breath  of  the  Lord,  consoling  and 

comforting  many. 
Then,  as  he  opened  the  door,  he  beheld  the 

form  of  the  maiden 
Seated  beside  her  wheel,  and  the  carded  wool 

like  a  snow-drift 


26     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Piled  at  her  knee,  her  white  hands  feeding  the 

ravenous  spindle, 
While  with  her  foot  on  the  treadle  she  guided 

the  wheel  in  its  motion. 

Open  wide  on  her  lap  lay  the  well-worn  psalm- 
book  of  Ainsworth, 
Printed  in  Amsterdam,  the  words  and  the  music 

together, 
Rough-hewn,  angular  notes,  like  stones  in  the 

wall  of  a  churchyard, 
Darkened  and  overhung  by  the  running  vine  of 

the  verses. 
Such  was  the  book  from  whose  pages  she  sang 

the  old  Puritan  anthem, 
She,  the  Puritan  girl,  in  the  solitude  of  the 

forest, 

Making  the  humble  house  and  the  modest  ap- 
parel of  homespun 
Beautiful  with  her  beauty,  and  rich  with  the 

wealth  of  her  being  ! 
Over  him  rushed,  like  a  wind  that  is  keen  and 

cold  and  relentless, 
Thoughts  of  what  might  have  been,  and  the 

weight  and  woe  of  his  errand  ; 
All  the  dreams  that  had  faded,  and  all  the  hopes 

that  had  vanished, 
All  his  life  henceforth  a  dreary  and  tenantless 

mansion, 


I 


JOHN    ALDEN.  37 

Blowing  o'er  rocky  wastes,  and  tlie  grottos  and 
gardens  of  ocean ! 

Lay  thy  cold,  moist  hand  on  my  burning  fore- 
head, and  wrap  me 

Close  in  thy  garments  of  mist,  to  allay  the  fever 
within  me !  " 

Like  an  awakened  conscience,  the  sea  was 

moaning  and  tossing, 
Beating  remorseful  and  loud  the  mutable  sands 

of  the  sea-shore. 
Fierce  in  his  soul  was  the  struggle  and  tumult 

of  passions  contending ; 
Love  triumphant  and  crowned,  and  friendship 

wounded  and  bleeding,       - — — 
Passionate   cries  of  desire,  and  importunate 

pleadings  of  duty ! 
"  Is  it  my  fault,"  he  said,  "  that  the  maiden  has 

chosen  between  us  ? 
Is  it  my  fault  that  he  failed,  —  my  fault  that  I 

am  the  victor  ?  " 
Then  within  him  there  thundered  a  voice,  like 

the  voice  of  the  Prophet : 
"  It  hath   displeased  the   Lord  !  "  —  and  he 

thought  of  David's  transgression, 
Bathsheba's  beautiful  face,  and  his  friend  in  the 

front  of  the  battle  ! 


38     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Shame  and  confusion  of  guilt,  and  abasement 
and  self-condemnation, 

Overwhelmed  him  at  once  ;  and  he  cried  in  the 
deepest  contrition : 

"  It  hath  displeased  the  Lord  !  It  is  the  temp- 
tation of  Satan ! " 

Then,  uplifting  his  head,  he  looked  at  the  sea, 

and  beheld  there 
Dimly  the  shadowy  form  of  the  May  Mower 

riding  at  anchor, 
Rocked  on  the  rising  tide,  and  ready  to  sail  on 

the  morrow ; 
Heard  the  voices  of  men  through  the  mist,  the 

rattle  of  cordage 
Thrown  on  the  deck,  the  shouts  of  the  mate, 

and  the  sailors'  "  Ay,  ay,  Sir  !  " 
Clear  and  distinct,  but  not  loud,  in  the  drip- 
ping air  of  the  twilight. 
Still  for  a  moment  he  stood,  and  listened,  and 

stared  at  the  vessel, 
Then  went  hurriedly  on,  as  one  who,  seeing  a 

phantom, 
Stops,  then  quickens  his  pace,  and  follows  the 

beckoning  shadow. 
"  Yes,  it  is  plain  to  me  now,"  he  mrfrmured  ; 

"  the  hand  of  the  Lord  is 
Leading  me  out  of  the  land  of  darkness,  the 

bondage  of  error, 


JOHN    ALDEN.  41 

Through  the   sea,  that   shall  lift  the  walls  of 

its  waters  around  me, 
Hiding  me,    cutting  me  off,   from  the  cruel 

thoughts  that  pursue  me. 
Back  will  I  go  o'er  the  ocean,  this  dreary  land 

will  abandon, 
Her  whom  I  may  not  love,  and  him  whom  my 

heart  has  offended. 
Better  to  be  in  my  grave  in  the   green  old 

churchyard  in  England, 
Close  by  my  mother's   side,  and  among  the 

dust  of  my  kindred ; 
Better  be  dead  and  forgotten,  than  living  in 

shame  and  dishonor ! 
Sacred  and  safe  and  unseen,  in  the  dark  of  the 

narrow  chamber 
With  me  my  secret  shall  lie,  like  a  buried  jewel 

that  glimmers 
Bright  on  the  hand  that  is  dust,  in  the  chambers 

of  silence  and  darkness,  — 
Yes,  as  the  marriage  ring  of  the  great  espousal 

hereafter ! " 

Thus  as  he  spake  he  turned,  in  the  strength 

of  his  strong  resolution, 
Leaving  behind   him  the  shore,  and  hurried 

along  in  the  twilight, 
Through   the   congenial   gloom   of  the  forest 

silent  and  sombre, 


42      THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Till  he  beheld  the  lights  in  the  seven  houses  of 
Plymouth,, 

Shining  like  seven  stars  in  the  dusk  and  mist   < 
of  the  evening. 

Soon  he  entered  his  door,  and  found  the  re- 
doubtable Captain 

Sitting  alone,  and  absorbed  in  the  martial  pages 
of  Caesar, 

Fighting  some  great  campaign  in  Hainault  or 
Brabant  or  Flanders. 

"  Long  have  you  been  on  your  errand,"  he  said 
with  a  cheery  demeanor, 

Even  as  one  who  is  waiting  an   answer,  and 
fears  not  the  issue. 

"  Not  far  off  is  the  house,  although  the  woods 
are  between  us ; 

But  you  have  lingered  so  long,  that  while  you 
were  going  and  coming 

I  have  fought  ten  battles  and  sacked  and  de- 
molished a  city. 

Come,  sit,  down,  and  in  order  relate  to  me  all 
that  has  happened." 

Then  John   Alden  spake,   and  related  the 

wondrous  adventure, 
From  beginning  to  end,  minutely,  just  as  it 

happened ; 
How  he  had  seen  Priscilla,  and  how  he  had  sped 

in  his  courtship, 


JOHN    ALDEN.  43 

Only  smoothing  a  little,  and  softening  down 
her  refusal. 

But  when  he  came  at  length  to  the  words 
Priscilla  had  spoken, 

Words  so  tender  and  cruel :  "  Why  don't  you 
speak  for  yourself,  John  ?  " 

Up  leaped  the  Captain  of  Plymouth,  and  stamped 
on  the  floor,  till  his  armor 

Clanged  on  the  wall,  where  it  hung,  with  a 
sound  of  sinister  omen. 

All  his  pent-up  wrath  burst  forth  in  a  sudden 
explosion, 

E'en  as  a  hand-grenade,  that  scatters  destruc- 
tion around  it. 

Wildly  he  shouted  and  loud  :  "  John  Alden  ! 
you  have  betrayed  me  ! 

Me,  Miles  Standish,  your  friend !  have  sup- 
planted, defrauded,  betrayed  me ! 

One  of  my  ancestors  ran  his  sword  through  the 
heart  of  Wat  Tyler; 

Who  shall  prevent  me  from  running  my  own 
through  the  heart  of  a  traitor  ? 

Yours  is  the  greater  treason,  for  yours  is  a 
treason  to  friendship ! 

You,  who  lived  under  my  roof,  whom  I  cher- 
ished and  loved  as  a  brother  ; 

You,  who  have  fed  at  my  board,  and  drunk  at 
my  cup,  to  whose  keeping 


44     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

I  have  intrusted  my  honor,  my  thoughts  the 

most  sacred  and  secret, — 
You  too,   Brutus !    ah  woe  to  the  name  of 

friendship  hereafter  ! 
Brutus  was  Cesar's  friend,  and  you  were  mine, 

but  henceforward 
Let  there  be  nothing  between  us  save  war,  and 

implacable  hatred ! " 

So  spake  the  Captain  of  Plymouth,  and  strode 

about  in  the  chamber, 
Chafing  and  choking  with  rage ;  like  cords  were 

the  veins  on  his  temples. 
But  in  the  midst  of  his  anger  a  man  appeared 

at  the  doorway, 
Bringing  in  uttermost  haste  a  message  of  urgent 

importance, 

Rumors  of  danger  and  war  and  hostile  incur- 
sions of  Indians ! 
Straightway  the  Captain  paused,  and,  without 

further  question  or  parley, 
Took  from  the  nail  on  the  wall  his  sword  with 

its  scabbard  of  iron, 
Buckled  the  belt  round  his  waist,  and,  frowning 

fiercely,  departed. 
Alden  was  left  alone.     He  heard  the  clank  of 

the  scabbard 
Growing  fainter  and  fainter,  and  dying  away  in 

the  distance. 


JOHN    ALDEN.  47 

Is  it  to  shoot  red  squirrels  you  have  your  how- 
itzer planted 

There  on  the  roof  of  the  church,  or  is  it  to 
shoot  red  devils  ? 

Truly  the  only  tongue  that  is  understood  by  a 
savage 

Must  be  the  tongue  of  fire  that  speaks  from  the 
mouth  of  the  cannon  !  " 

Thereupon  answered   and  said  the  excellent 
Elder  of  Plymouth, 

Somewhat  amazed  and  alarmed  at  this  irrever- 
ent language : 

( '  Not  so  thought  Saint  Paul,  nor  yet  the  other 
Apostles ; 

Not  from  the  cannon's  mouth  were  the  tongues 
of  fire  they  spake  with !  " 

But  unheeded  fell  this  mild  rebuke  on  the  . 
Captain, 

Who  had  advanced  to  the  table,  and  thus  con- 
tinued discoursing : 

"  Lsave  this  matter  to  me,  for  to  me  by  right 
it  pertaineth. 

"War  is  a  terrible  trade ;  but  in  the  cause  that 
is  righteous, 

Sweet  is  the  smell  of  powder ;  and  thus  I  an- 
swer the  challenge !  " 

Then  from   the   rattlesnake's   skin,  with  a 
sudden,  contemptuous  gesture, 


48  THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Jerking  the  Indian  arrows,  lie  filled  it  with, 
powder  and  bullets 

Full  to  the  very  jaws,  and  handed  it  back  to  the 
savage, 

Saying,  in  thundering  tones, :  "  Here,  take  it ! 
this  is  your  answer  !  " 

Silently  out  of  the  room  then  glided  the  glis- 
tening savage, 

Bearing  the  serpent's  skin,  and  seeming  him- 
self like  a  serpent, 

Winding  his  sinuous  way  in  the  dark  to  the 
depths  of  the  forest. 

V. 

THE   SAILING  OF  THE  MAY  FLOWER. 

JUST  in  the  gray  of  the  dawn,  as  the  mists  up- 
rose from  the  meadows, 

There  was  a  stir  and  a  sound  in  the  slumbering 
village  of  Plymouth ; 

Clanging  and  clicking  of  arms,  and  the  order 
imperative,  "  Forward  !  " 

Given  in  tone  suppressed,  a  tramp  of  feet,  and 
then  silence. 

Figures  ten,  in  the  mist,  marched  slowly  out  of 
the  village. 

Standish  the  stalwart  it  was,  with  eight  of  his 
valorous  army, 


THE  SAILING  OF  THE  MAY  FLOWER.       49 

Led  by  their  Indian  guide,  by  Hobomok,  friend 
of  the  white  men, 

Northward  marching  to  quell  the  sudden  revolt 
of  the  savage. 

Giants  they  seemed  in  the  mist,  or  the  mighty 
men  of  King  David ; 

Giants  in  heart  they  were,  who  believed  in  God 
and  the  Bible,  — 

Ay,  who  believed  in  the  smiting  of  Midianites 
and  Philistines. 

Over  them  gleamed  far  off  the  crimson  banners 
of  morning ; 

Under  them  loud  on  the  sands,  the  serried  bil- 
lows, advancing, 

Eired  along  the  line,  and  in  regular  order  re- 
treated. 

Many  a  mile  had  they  marched,  when  at 
length  the  village  of  Plymouth 

Woke  from  its  sleep,  and  arose,  intent  on  its 
manifold  labors. 

Sweet  was  the  air  and  soft;  and  slowly  the 
smoke  from  the  chimneys 

Rose  over  roofs  of  thatch,  and  pointed  steadily 
eastward ; 

Men  came  forth  from  the  doors,  and  paused 
and  talked  of  the  weather, 

Said  that  the  wind  had  changed,  and  was  blow- 
ing fair  for  the  May  Elower ; 


50  THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Talked  of  their  Captain's  departure,  and  all  the 

dangers  that  menaced, 
He  being  gone,  the  town,  and  what  should  be 

done  in  his  absence. 
Merrily  sang  the  birds,  and  the  tender  voices 

of  women 
Consecrated  with  hymns  the  common  cares  of 

the  household. 
Out  of  the  sea  rose  the  sun,  and  the  billows 

rejoiced  at  his  coming; 
Beautiful  were  his  feet  on  the  purple  tops  of 

the  mountains ; 
Beautiful  on  the  sails  of  the  May  Elower  riding 

at  anchor, 
Battered  and  blackened  and  worn  by  all  the 

storms  of  the  winter. 
Loosely  against  her  masts  was  hanging  and 

flapping  her  canvas, 
Rent  by  so  many  gales,  and  patched  by  the 

hands  of  the  sailors. 
Suddenly  from  her  side,  as  the  sun  rose  over 

the  ocean, 
Darted  a  puff  of  smoke,  and  floated  seaward ; 

anon  rang 
Loud  over  field  and  forest  the  cannon's  roar, 

and  the  echoes 
Heard  and  repeated  the  sound,  the  signal-gun 

of  departure ! 


THE  SAILING  OF  THE  MAY  FLOWER.       51 

Ah !  but  with  louder  echoes  replied  the  hearts 

of  the  people ! 
Meekly,  in  voices  subdued,  the  chapter  was 

read  from  the  Bible, 
Meekly  the  prayer  was  begun,  but  ended  in 

fervent  entreaty ! 
Then  from  their  houses  in  haste  came  forth  the 

Pilgrims  of  Plymouth, 
Men  and  women  and  children,  all  hurrying 

down  to  the  sea-shore, 
Eager,  with  tearful  eyes,  to  say  farewell  to  the 

May  Mower, 
Homeward  bound  o'er  the  sea,  and  leaving 

them  here  in  the  desert. 

[Foremost  among  them  was  Alden.  All  night 
he  had  lain  without  slumber, 

Turning  and  tossing  about  in  the  heat  and  un- 
rest of  his  fever. 

He  had  beheld  Miles  Standish,  who  came  back 
late  from  the  council, 

Stalking  into  the  room,  and  heard  him  mutter 
and  murmur, 

Sometimes  it  seemed  a  prayer,  and  sometimes 
it  sounded  like  swearing. 

Once  he  had  come  to  the  bed,  and  stood  there 
a  moment  in  silence ; 

Then  he  turned  away,  and  said:  "I  will  not 
awake  him ; 


52   THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Let  him  sleep  on,  it  is  best ;  for  what  is  the 
use  of  more  talking  !  " 

Then  he  extinguished  the  light,  and  threw  him- 
self down  on  his  pallet, 

Dressed  as  he  was,  and  ready  to  start  at  the 
break  of  the  morning,  — 

Covered  himself  with  the  cloak  he  had  worn  in 
his  campaigns  in  Flanders,  — 

Slept  as  a  soldier  sleeps  in  his  bivouac,  ready 
for  action. 

But  with  the  dawn  he  arose ;  in  the  twilight 
Alden  beheld  him 

Put  on  his  corselet  of  steel,  and  all  the  rest  of 
his  armor, 

Buckle  about  his  waist  his  trusty  blade  of  Da- 
mascus, 

Take  from  the  corner  his  musket,  and  so  stride 
out  of  the  chamber. 

Often  the  heart  of  the  youth  had  burned  and 
yearned  to  embrace  him, 

Often  his  lips  had  essayed  to  speak,  imploring 
for  pardon ; 

All  the  old  friendship  came  back,  with  its  ten- 
der and  grateful  emotions ; 

But  his  pride  overmastered  the  nobler  nature 
within  him,  — 

Pride,  and  the  sense  of  his  wrong,  and  the 
burning  fire  of  the  insult. 


THE  SAILING  OF  THE  MAY  FLOWER.       53 

So  he  beheld  his  friend  departing  in  anger,  but 

spake  not, 
Saw  him  go  forth  to  danger,  perhaps  to  death, 

and  he  spake  not ! 
Then  he  arose  from  his  bed,  and  heard  what 

the  people  were  saying, 
Joined  in  the  talk  at  the  door,  with  Stephen 

and  Richard  and  Gilbert, 
Joined  in  the  morning  prayer,  and  in  the  read- 
ing of  Scripture, 
And,  with  the  others,  in  haste  went  hurrying 

down  to  the  sea-shore, 
Down  to  the  Plymouth  Rock,  that  had  been  to 

their  feet  as  a  doorstep 
Into  a  world  unknown,  —  the  corner-stone  of 

a  nation ! 

There  with  his  boat  was  the  Master,  already 
a  little  impatient 

Lest  he  should  lose  the  tide,  or  the  wind  might 
shift  to  the  eastward, 

Square-built,  hearty,  and  strong,  with  an  odor 
of  ocean  about  him, 

Speaking  with  this  one  and  that,  and  cram- 
ming letters  and  parcels 

Into  his  pockets  capacious,  and  messages  min- 
gled together 

Into  his  narrow  brain,  till  at  last  he  was 
wholly  bewildered. 


54     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Nearer  the  boat  stood  Alden,  with  one  fool 

placed  on  the  gunwale, 
One  still  firm  on  the  rock,  and  talking  at  times 

with  the  sailors, 
Seated  erect  on  the  thwarts,  all  ready  and  eager 

for  starting. 
He  too  was  eager  to  go,  and  thus  put  an  end 

to  his  anguish, 
Thinking  to  fly  from  despair,  that  swifter  than 

keel  is  or  canvas, 
Thinking  to  drown  in  the  sea  the  ghost  that 

would  rise  and  pursue  him. 
But  as  he  gazed  on  the  crowd,  he  beheld  the 

form  of  Priscilla 
Standing  dejected  among  them,  unconscious  of 

all  that  was  passing. 
Fixed  were  her  eyes  upon  his,  as  if  she  divined 

his  intention, 

Fixed  with  a  look  so  sad,  so  reproachful,  im- 
ploring, and  patient, 
That  with  a  sudden  revulsion  his  heart  recoiled 

from  its  purpose, 
As  from  the  verge  of  a  crag,  where  one  step 

more  is  destruction. 
Strange  is  the  heart  of  man,  with  its  quick, 

mysterious  instincts ! 
Strange  is  the  life  of  man,  and  fatal  or  fated 

are  moments,  , 


THE  SAILING  OF  THE  MAY  FLOWEK.      57 

Whereupon  turn,  as  on  hinges,  the  gates  of  the 

wall  adamantine ! 
"  Here  I  remain !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  looked 

at  the  heavens  above  him, 
Thanking  the  Lord  whose  breath  had  scattered 

the  mist  and  the  madness, 
Wherein,  blind  and  lost,  to  death  he  was  stag- 
gering headlong. 
"  Yonder  snow-white  cloud,  that  floats  in  the 

ether  above  me, 

Seems  like  a  hand  that  is  pointing  and  beckon- 
ing over  the  ocean. 
There  is  another  hand,  that  is  not  so  spectral 

and  ghost-like, 
Holding  me,  drawing  me  back,  and  clasping 

mine  for  protection. 
Float,  0  hand  of  cloud,  and  vanish  away  in  the 

ether ! 
Roll  thyself  up  like  a  fist,  to  threaten  and 

daunt  me  ;  I  heed  not 
Either  your  warning  or  menace,  or  any  omen 

of  evil ! 
There  is  no  land  so  sacred,  no  air  so  pure  and 

so  wholesome, 
As  is  the  air  she  breathes,  and  the  soil  that  is 

pressed  by  her  footsteps. 
Here  for  her  sake  will  I  stay,   and  like  an 

invisible  presence 


58     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Hover  around  her  forever,  protecting,  support- 
ing her  weakness ; 

Yes  !  as  my  foot  was  the  first  that  stepped  on 
this  rock  at  the  landing, 

So,  with  the  blessing  of  God,  shall  it  be  the 
last  at  the  leaving !  " 

Meanwhile  the  Master  alert,  but  with  digni- 
fied air  and  important, 

Scanning  with  watchful  eye  the  tide  and  the 
wind  and  the  weather, 

Walked  about  on  the  sands,  and  the  people 
crowded  around  him 

Saying  a  few  last  words,  and  enforcing  his 
careful  remembrance. 

Then,  taking  each  by  the  hand,  as  if  he  were 
grasping  a  tiller, 

Into  the  boat  he  sprang,  and  in  haste  shoved 
off  to  his  vessel, 

Glad  in  his  heart  to  get  rid  of  all  this  worry 
and  flurry,  . 

Glad  to  be  gone  from  a  land  of  sand  and  sick- 
ness and  sorrow, 

Short  allowance  of  victual,  and  plenty  of  noth- 
ing but  Gospel ! 

Lost  in  the  sound  of  the  oars  was  the  last  fare- 
well of  the  Pilgrims. 

0  strong  hearts  and  true  !  not  one  went  back 
in  the  May  Flower ! 


THE  SAILING  OF  THE  MAY  FLOWEE.       59 

No,  not  one  looked  back,,  who  had  set  his  hand 
to  this  ploughing ! 

Soon  were  heard  on  board  the  shouts  and 

songs  of  the  sailors 
Heaving  the  windlass  round,  and  hoisting  tbe 

ponderous  anchor. 
Then  the  yards  were  braced,  and  all  sails  set 

to  the  west-wind, 
Blowing   steady   and   strong;    and   the   May 

Elower  sailed  from  the  harbor, 
Hounded  the  point  of  the  Gurnet,  and  leaving 

far  to  the  southward 
Island  and  cape  of  sand,  and  the  Field  of  the 

First  Encounter, 
Took  the  wind  on  her  quarter,  and  stood  for 

the  open  Atlantic, 
Borne  on  the  send  of  the  sea,  and  the  swelling 

hearts  of  the  Pilgrims. 

Long  in  silence  they  watched  the  receding 

sail  of  the  vessel, 
Much  endeared  to  them  all,  as  something  living 

and  human ; 
Then,  as  if  filled  with  the  spirit,  and  wrapt  in 

a  vision  prophetic, 
Baring  his  hoary  head,  the  excellent  Elder  of 

Plymouth 


60   THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Said,  "  Let  us  pray ! "  and  they  prayed,  and 

thanked  the  Lord  and  took  courage. 
Mournfully  sobbed  the  waves  at  the  base  of 

the  rock,  and  above  them 
Bowed  and  whispered  the  wheat  on  the  hill  of 

death,  and  their  kindred 
Seemed  to  awake  in  their  graves,  and  to  join 

in  the  prayer  that  they  uttered. 
Sun-illumined  and  white,  on  the  eastern  verge 

of  the  ocean 
Gleamed  the  departing  sail,  like  a  marble  slab 

in  a  graveyard ; 

Buried  beneath  it  lay  forever  all  hope  of  escap- 
ing. 
Lo !  as  they  turned  to  depart,  they  saw  the 

form  of  an  Indian, 
Watching  them  from  the  hill ;  but  while  they 

spake  with  each  other, 
Pointing  with  outstretched  hands,  and  saying, 

"  Look  !  "  he  had  vanished. 
So  they  returned  to  their  homes ;  but  Alclen 

lingered  a  little, 
Musing  alone  on  the  shore,  and  watching  the 

wash  of  the  billows 
Hound  the  base  of  the  rock,  and  the  sparkle 

and  flash  of  the  sunshine, 
Like  the  spirit  of  God,  moving  visibly  over  the 

waters. 


PRISCILLA.  61 

VI. 

PRISCILLA. 

THUS  for  a  while  lie  stood,  and  mused  by  the 
shore  of  the  ocean, 

Thinking  of  many  things,  and  most  of  all  of 
Priscilla ; 

And  as  if  thought  had  the  power  to  draw  to 
itself,  like  the  loadstone, 

Whatsoever  it  touches,  by  subtile  laws  of  its 
nature, 

Lo  !  as  he  turned  to  depart,  Priscilla  was  stand- 
ing beside  him. 

"Are  you  so  much  offended,  you  will  not 

speak  to  me  ?  "  said  she. 
"  Am  I  so  much  to  blame,  that  yesterday,  when 

you  were  pleading 

Warmly  the  cause  of  another,  my  heart,  im- 
pulsive and  wayward, 
Pleaded  your  own,  and  spake  out,  forgetful 

perhaps  of  decorum  ? 
Certainly  you  can  forgive  me  for  speaking  so 

frankly,  for  saying 
What  I  ought  not  to  have  said,  yet  now  I  can 

never  unsay  it ; 
Eor  there  are  moments  in  life,  when  the  heart 

is  so  full  of  emotion, 


62     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

That  if  by  chance  it  be  shaken,  or  into  its 

depths  like  a  pebble 
Drops  some  careless  word,  it  overflows,  and 

its  secret, 
Spilt  on  the  ground  like  water,  can  never  be 

gathered  together. 
Yesterday  I  was  shocked,  when  I  heard  you 

speak  of  Miles  Standish, 
Praising  his  virtues,   transforming   his  very 

defects  into  virtues, 
Praising  his  courage  and  strength,  and  even 

his  fighting  in  Flanders, 
As  if  by  fighting  alone  you  could  win  the  heart 

of  a  woman, 
Quite  overlooking  yourself  and  the   rest,  in 

exalting  your  hero. 
Therefore  I  spake  as  I  did,  by  an  irresistible 

impulse. 
You  will  forgive  me,  I  hope,  for  the  sake  of 

the  friendship  between  us, 
Which  is  too  true  and  too  sacred  to  be  so  easily 

broken ! " 
Thereupon  answered  John  Alden,  the  scholar, 

the  friend  of  Miles  Standish  : 
"  I  was  not  angry  with  you,  with  myself  alone 

I  was  angry, 
Seeing  how  badly  I  managed  the  matter  I  had 

in  my  keeping." 


PRISCILLA.  65 

"  No  ! "  interrupted  the  maiden,  with  answer 

prompt  and  decisive,  — 
"  No ;  you  were  angry  with  me,  for  speaking 

so  frankly  and  freely. 
It  was  wrong,  I  acknowledge ;  for  it  is  the  fate 

of  a  woman 
Long  to  be  patient  and  silent,  to  wait  like  a 

ghost  that  is  speechless, 
Till  some  questioning  voice  dissolves  the  spell 

of  its  silence. 
Hence  is  the  inner  life  of  so  many  suffering 

women 
Sunless  and  silent  and  deep,  like  subterranean 

rivers 
Running  through  caverns  of  darkness,  unheard, 

unseen,  and  unfruitful, 
Chafing  their  channels  of  stone,  with  endless 

and  profitless  murmurs." 
Thereupon  answered  John  Alden,  the  young 

man,  the  lover  of  women  : 
"  Heaven  forbid  it,  Priscilla ;  and  truly  they 

seem  to  me  always 
More  like  the  beautiful  rivers  that  watered  the 

garden  of  Eden, 
More  like  the  river  Euphrates,  through  deserts 

of  Havilah  flowing, 
Pilling  the  land  with  delight,  and  memories 

sweet  of  the  garden !  " 


66   THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

"  Ah,  by  these  words,  I  can  see,"  again  inter- 
rupted the  maiden, 

"How  very  little  you  prize  me,  or  care  for 
what  I  am  saying. 

When  from  the  depths  of  my  heart,  in  pain  and 
with  secret  misgiving, 

Frankly  I  speak  to  you,  asking  for  sympathy 
only  and  kindness, 

Straightway  you  take  up  my  words,  that  are 
plain  and  direct  and  in  earnest, 

Turn  them  away  from  their  meaning,  and  an- 
swer with  nattering  phrases. 

This  is  not  right,  is  not  just,  is  not  true  to  the 
best  that  is  in  you ; 

For  I  know  and  esteem  you,  and  feel  that  your 
nature  is  noble, 

Lifting  mine  up  to  a  higher,  a  more  ethereal 
level. 

Therefore  I  value  your  friendship,  and  feel  it 
perhaps  the  more  keenly 

If  you  say  aught  that  implies  I  am  only  as  one 
among  many, 

If  you  make  use  of  those  common  and  compli- 
mentary phrases 

Most  men  think  so  fine,  in  dealing  and  speak- 
ing with  women, 

But  which  women  reject  as  insipid,  if  not  as 
insulting." 


PUT  SC  ILL  A.  67 

Mute  and  amazed  was  Alden ;  and  listened 

and  looked  at  Priscilla, 
Thinking  he  never  had  seen  her  more  fair, 

more  divine  in  her  beauty. 
He  who  but  yesterday  pleaded  so  glibly  the 

cause  of  another, 

Stood  there  embarrassed  and  silent,  and  seek- 
ing in  vain  for  an  answer. 
So  the  maiden  went  on,  and  little  divined  or 

imagined 
What  was  at  work  in  his  heart,  that  made  him 

so  awkward  and  speechless. 
"  Let   us,  then,  be  what  we  are,  and  speak 

what  we  think,  and  in  all  things 
Keep  ourselves  loyal  to  truth,  and  the  sacred 

professions  of  friendship. 
It  is  no  secret  I  tell  you,  nor  am  I  ashamed  to 

declare  it : 
I  have  liked  to  be  with  you,  to  see  you,  to 

speak  with  you  always. 
So  I  was  hurt  at  your  words,  and  a  little 

affronted  to  hear  you 
Urge  me  to  marry  your  friend,  though  he  were 

the  Captain  Miles  Standish. 
Tor  I  must  tell  you  the  truth :  much  more  to 

me  is  your  friendship 
Than  all  the  love  he  could  give,  were  he  twice 

the  hero  you  think  him." 


68   THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Then  she  extended  her  hand,  and  Alden,  who 
eagerly  grasped  it, 

Felt  all  the  wounds  in  his  heart,  that  were 
aching  and  bleeding  so  sorely, 

Healed  by  the  touch  of  that  hand,  and  he  said, 
with  a  voice  full  of  feeling  : 

"  Yes,  we  must  ever  be  friends ;  and  of  all  who 
offer  you  friendship 

Let  me  be  ever  the  first,  the  truest,  the  near- 
est and  dearest ! " 

Casting  a  farewell  look  at  the  glimmering 

sail  of  the  May  Elower, 
Distant,  but  still  in  sight,  and  sinking  below 

the  horizon, 
Homeward    together    they    walked,    with    a 

strange,  indefinite  feeling, 
That  all  the  rest  had  departed  and  left  them 

alone  in  the  desert. 
But,  as  they  went  through  the  fields  in  the 

blessing  and  smile  of  the  sunshine, 
Lighter  grew  their  hearts,  and  Priscilla  said 

very  archly : 
"  Now  that  our  terrible  Captain  has  gone  in 

pursuit  of  the  Indians, 

Where  he  is  happier  far  than  he  would  be  com- 
manding a  household, 
You  may  speak  boldly,  and  tell  me  of  all  that 

happened  between  you, 


PRISCILLA.  69 

When  you  returned  last  night,  and  said  how 

ungrateful  you  found  me/5 
Thereupon  answered  John  Alden,  and  told  her 

the  whole  of  the  story,  — 
Told  her  his  own  despair,  and  the  direful  wrath 

of  Miles  Standish. 
Whereat  the  maiden  smiled,  and  said  between 

laughing  and  earnest, 
"  He  is  a  little  chimney,  and  heated  hot  in  a 

moment ! " 
But  as  he  gently  rebuked  her,  and  told  her  how 

he  had  suffered,  — 
How  he  had  even  determined  to  sail  that  day 

in  the  May  Flower, 
And  had  remained  for  her  sake,  on  hearing  the 

dangers  that  threatened,  — 
All  her  manner  was  changed,  and  she  said  with 

a  faltering  accent, 
"  Truly  I  thank  you  for  this :  how  good  you 

have  been  to  me  always  ! 55 

Thus,  as  a  pilgrim  devout,  who  toward  Je- 
rusalem journeys, 

Taking  three  steps  in  advance,  and  one  reluc- 
tantly backward, 

Urged  by  importunate  zeal,  and  withheld  by 
pangs  of  contrition ; 

Slowly  but  steadily  onward,  receding  yet  ever 
advancing, 


70     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Journeyed  this   Puritan  youth  to  the   Holy 

Land  of  his  longings, 
Urged  by  the  fervor  of  love,  and  withheld  by 

remorseful  misgivings. 


VII. 

THE  MARCH  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

MEANWHILE  the  stalwart  Miles  Standish 
was  marching  steadily  northward, 

Winding  through  forest  and  swamp,  and  along 
the  trend  of  the  sea-shore, 

All  day  long,  with  hardly  a  halt,  the  fire  of  his 
anger 

Burning  and  crackling  within,  and  the  sul- 
phurous odor  of  powder 

Seeming  more  sweet  to  his  nostrils  than  all 
the  scents  of  the  forest. 

Silent  and  moody  he  went,  and  much  he  re- 
volved his  discomfort ; 

He  who  was  used  to  success,  and  to  easy  vic- 
tories always, 

Thus  to  be  flouted,  rejected,  and  laughed  to 
scorn  by  a  maiden, 

Thus  to  be  mocked  and  betrayed  by  the  friend 
whom  most  he  had  trusted  ! 

Ah !  }t  was  too  much  to  be  borne,  and  he 
fretted  and  chafed  in  his  armor ! 


THE  MARCH  OF  MILES  STANDISH.       71 

"  I  alone  am  to  blame,"  he  muttered,  "  for 

mine  was  the  folly. 
What  has  a  rough  old  soldier,  grown  grim  and 

gray  in  the  harness, 
Used  to  the  camp  and  its  ways,  to  do  with  the 

wooing  of  maidens  ? 
JT  was  but  a  dream,  —  let  it  pass,  —  let  it 

vanish  like  so  many  others  ! 
What  I  thought  was  a  flower  is  only  a  weed, 

and  is  worthless ; 
Out  of  my  heart  will  I  pluck  it,  and  throw  it 

away,  and  henceforward 
Be  but  a  fighter  of  battles,  a  lover  and  wooer 

of  dangers ! " 
Thus  he  revolved  in  his  mind  his  sorry  defeat 

and  discomfort, 
While  he  was  marching  by  day  or  lying  at 

night  in  the  forest, 
Looking  up  at  the  trees,  and  the  constellations 

beyond  them. 

After  a  three  days'  march  he  came  to  an 

Indian  encampment 
Pitched  on  the  edge  of  a  meadow,  between  the 

sea  and  the  forest ;  0 

Women. at  work  by  IJe  tents,  and  the, warriors, 

horrid  with  war-paint,    .          « 
Seated  about  a  fire,  and  smoking  and  talking 

together ; 


72     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Who,  when  they  saw  from  afar  the  sudden 
approach  of  the  white  men, 

Saw  the  flash  of  the  sun  on  breastplate  and 
sabre  and  musket, 

Straightway  leaped  to  their  feet,  and  two,  from 
among  them  advancing, 

Came  to  parley  with  Standish,  and  offer  him 
furs  as  a  present ; 

Friendship  was  in  their  looks,  but  in  their 
hearts  there  was  hatred. 

Braves  of  the  tribe  were  these,  and  brothers 
gigantic  in  stature. 

Huge  as  Goliath  of  Gath,  or  the  terrible  Og, 
king  of  Bashan ; 

One  was  Pecksuot  named,  and  the  other  was 
called  Wattawamat. 

Hound  their  necks  were  suspended  their  knives 
in  scabbards  of  wampum, 

Two-edged,  trenchant  knives,  with  points  as 
sharp  as  a  needle. 

Other  arms  had  they  none,  for  they  were  cun- 
ning and  crafty. 

"Welcome,  English !  "%they  said:  these  words 
the^iad  learned  from  the  traders 

Touching  ai|jimes  on  the  coast,  to  barter  and 
chaffer  for  peltries. 

Then  in  their  native  tongue  they  began  to  par- 
ley with  St'andish, 


THE  MARCH  OF  MILES  STANDISII.       73 

Through  his  guide  and  interpreter,  Hobomok, 

friend  of  the  white  man, 
Bagging  for  blankets  and  knives,  but  mostly 

for  muskets  and  powder, 
Kept  by  the  white  man,  they  said,  concealed, 

with  the  plague,  in  his  cellars, 
Ready  to  be  let  loose,  and  destroy  his  brother 

the  red  man ! 
But  when  Standish  refused,  and  said  he  would 

give  them  the  Bible, 
Suddenly  changing  their  tone,  they  began  to 

boast  and  to  bluster. 
Then  Wattawamat  advanced  with  a  stride  in 

front  of  the  other, 
And,  with  a  lofty  demeanor,  thus  Tauntingly 

spake  to  the  Captain : 
"  Now  Wattawamat  can  see,  by  the  fiery  eyes 

of  the  Captain, 
Angry  is  he  in  his  heart ;  but  the  heart  of  the 

brave  Wattawamat 
Is  not  afraid  at  the  sight.     He  was  not  born 

of  a  woman, 
But  on  a  mountain,  at. night,  from  an  oak-tree 

riven  by  lightning, 

Forth  he  sprang  at  a  bound,  with  all  his  weap- 
ons about  him, 
Shouting,  '  Who  is  there  here  to  fight  with  the 

bravs  Wattawamat  ?  ' " 


74     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Then  he  unsheathed  his  knife,  and,  whetting 
the  blade  on  his  left  hand, 

Held  it  aloft  and  displayed  a  woman's  face  on 
the  handle, 

Saying,  with  bitter  expression  and  look  of  sin- 
ister meaning : 

"  I  have  another  at  home,  with  the  face  of  a 
man  on  the  handle ; 

By  and  by  they  shall  marry ;  and  there  will  be 
plenty  of  children  !  " 

Then  stood  Pecksuot  forth,  self-vannting, 

insulting  Miles  Standish : 
While  with  his  fingers  he  patted  the  knife  that 

hung  at  his  bosom, 
Drawing  it  half  from  its  sheath,  and  plunging 

it  back,  as  he  muttered, 
"  By  and  by  it  shall  see ;  it  shall  eat ;  ah,  ha  ! 

but  shall  speak  not ! 
This  is  the  mighty  Captain  the  white  men  have 

sent  to  destroy  us  ! 
He  is  a  little  man ;  let  him  go  and  work  with 

the  women ! " 

Meanwhile  Standish  had  noted  the  faces  and 

figures  of  Indians 

Peeping  and  creeping  about  from  bush  to  tree 
in  the  forest, 


THE  MAKCH  OF  MILES  STANDISH.       75 

Feigning  to  look  for  game,  with  arrows  set  on 

their  bow-strings, 
Drawing  about  him  still  closer  and  closer  the 

net  of  their  ambush. 
But  undaunted  he  stood,  and  dissembled  and 

treated  them  smoothly ; 
So  the  old  chronicles  say,  that  were  writ  in  the 

days  of  the  fathers. 
But  when  he  heard  their  defiance,  the  boast, 

the  taunt,  and  the  insult, 
All  the  hot  blood  of  his  race,  of  Sir  Hugh  and 

of  Thurston  de  Standish, 
Boiled  and  beat  in  his  heart,  and  swelled  in  the 

veins  of  his  temples. 

Headlong  he  leaped  on  the  boaster,  and,  snatch- 
ing his  knife  from  its  scabbard, 
Plunged  it  into  his  heart,  and,  reeling  back- 
ward, the  savage 
Eell  with  his  face  to  the  sky,  and  a  fiendlike 

fierceness  upon  it. 
Straight  there  arose  from  the  forest  the  awful 

sound  of  the  war-whoop, 
And,  like  a  flurry  of  snow  on  the  whistling 

wind  of  December, 
Swift  and  sudden  and  keen  came  a  flight  of 

feathery  arrows. 
Then  came  a  cloud  of  smoke,  and  out  of  the 

cloud  came  the  lightning, 


76     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Out  of  the  lightning  thunder ;  and  death  un- 
seen ran  before  it. 

Frightened  the  savages  fled  for  shelter  in  swamp 
and  in  thicket, 

Hotly  pursued  and  beset;  but  their  sachem, 
the  brave  Wattawamat, 

Eled  not ;  he  was  dead.  Unswerving  and 
swift  had  a  bullet 

Passed  though  his  brain,  and  he  fell  with  both 
hands  clutching  the  greensward, 

Seeming  in  death  to  hold  back  from  his  foe  the 
land  of  his  fathers. 

There  on  the  flowers  of  the  meadow  the  war- 
riors lay,  and  above  them, 

Silent,  with  folded  arms,  stood  Hobomok, 
friend  of  the  white  man. 

'Smiling  at  length  he  exclaimed  to  the  stalwart 
Captain  of  Plymouth : 

"  Pecksuot  bragged  very  loud,  of  his  courage, 
his  strength,  and  his  stature,  — 

Mocked  the  great  Captain,  and  called  him  a 
little  man ;  but  I  see  now 

Big  enough  have  you  been  to  lay  him  speech- 
less before  you  ! " 

Thus  the  first  battle  was  fought  and  won  by 
the  stalwart  Miles  Standish. 


THE    SPINNING-WHEEL.  77 

When  the  tidings  thereof  were  brought  to  the 

village  of  Plymouth, 
And  as  a  trophy  of  war  the  head  of  the  brave 

Wattawamat 
Scowled  from  the  roof  of  the  fort,  which  at 

once  was  a  church  and  a  fortress, 
All  who  beheld  it  rejoiced,  and  praised  the  Lord, 

and  took  courage. 
Only  Priscilla  averted  her  face  from  this  spectre 

of  terror, 
Thanking  God  in  her  heart  that  she  had  not 

married  Miles  Standish; 
Shrinking,  fearing  almost,  lest,  coming  home 

from  his  battles, 
He  should  lay  claim  to  her  hand,  as  the  prize 

and  reward  of  his  valor. 


VIII. 

THE   SPINNING-WHEEL. 

MONTH  after  month  passed  away,  and  in  Au- 
tumn the  ships  of  the  merchants 

Came  with  kindred  and  friends,  with  cattle  and 
corn  for  the  Pilgrims. 

All  in  the  village  was  peace ;  the  men  were 
intent  on  their  labors, 

Busy  with  hewing  and  building,  with  garden- 
plot  and  with  merestead, 


78      THE  COUKTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Busy  with  breaking  the  glebe,  and  mowing  the 

grass  in  the  meadows, 
Searching  the  sea  for  its  fish,  and  hunting  the 

deer  in  the  forest. 
All  in  the  village  was  peace ;  but  at  times  the 

rumor  of  warfare 
Tilled  the  air  with  alarm,  and  the  apprehension 

of  danger. 
Bravely  the  stalwart  Standish  was  scouring  the 

land  with  his  forces, 
Waxing  valiant  in  fight  and  defeating  the  alien 

armies, 
Till  his  name  had  become  a  sound  of  fear  to  the 

nations. 
Anger  was  still  in  his  heart,  but  at  times  the 

remorse  and  contrition 

Which  in  all  noble  natures  succeed  the  pas- 
sionate outbreak, 
Came  like  a  rising  tide,  that  encounters  the 

rush  of  a  river, 
Staying  its  current  awhile,  but  making  it  bitter 

and  brackish. 

Meanwhile  Alden  at  home  had  built  him  a 

new  habitation, 
Solid,  substantial,  of  timber  rough-hewn  from 

the  firs  of  the  forest. 
Wooden-barred  was  the  door,  and  the  roof  was 

covered  with  rushes ; 


THE    SPINNING-WHEEL.  79 

Latticed  the  windows  were,  and  the  window- 
panes  were  of  paper, 
Oiled  to  admit  the  light,  while  wind  and  rain 

were  excluded. 
There  too  he  dug  a  well,  and  around  it  planted 

an  orchard  : 
Still  may  be  seen  to  this  day  some  trace  of  the 

well  and  the  orchard. 
Close  to  the  house  was  the  stall,  where,  safe 

and  secure  from  annoyance, 
Ilaghorn,  the  snow-white  bull,  that  had  fallen 

to  Alden's  allotment 
In  the  division  of  cattle,  might  ruminate  in  the 

night-time 
Over  the  pastures  he  cropped,  made  fragrant 

by  sweet  pennyroyal. 

Oft  when  his  labor  was  finished,  with  eager 
feet  would  the  dreamer 

Follow  the  pathway  that  ran  through  the  woods 
to  the  house  of  Priscilla, 

Led  by  illusions  romantic  and  subtile  decep- 
tions of  fancy, 

Pleasure  disguised  as  duty,  and  love  in  the 
semblance  of  friendship. 

Ever  of  her  he  thought,  when  he  fashioned  the 
walls  of  his  dwelling  ; 

Ever  of  her  he  thought,  when  he  delved  in  the 
soil  of  his  garden ; 


80      THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STAtfDISH. 

Ever  of  her  he  thought,  when  he  read  in  his 

Bible  on  Sunday 

Praise  of  the  virtuous  woman,  as  she  is  de- 
scribed in  the  Proverbs,  — 
How  the  heart  of  her  husband  doth  safely  trust 

in  he'r  always, 
How  all  the  days  of  her  life  she  will  do  him 

good,  and  not  evil, 
How  she  seeketh  the  wool  and  the  flax  and 

worketh  with  gladness, 
How  she  layeth  her  hand  to  the  spindle  and 

holdeth  the  distaff, 
How  she  is  not  afraid  of  the  snow  for  herself 

or  her  household, 
Knowing  her  household  are  clothed  with  the 

scarlet  cloth  of  her  weaving ! 

So  as  she  sat  at  her  wheel  one  afternoon  in 
the  Autumn, 

Alden,  who  opposite  sat,  and  was  watching  her 
dexterous  fingers, 

As  if  the  thread  she  was  spinning  were  that  of 
his  life  and  his  fortune, 

After  a  pause  in  their  talk,  thus  spake  to  the 
sound  of  the  spindle. 

"  Truly,  Priscilla,"  he  said,  "  when  I  see  you 
spinning  and  spinning, 

Never  idle  a  moment,  but  thrifty  and  thought- 
ful of  others, 


THE   WEDDING-DAY.  87 

IX. 

THE  WEDDING-DAY. 

FORTH  from  the  curtain  of  clouds,  from  the 


Lo  !  in  the  midst  of  this  scene,  a  breathless 

messenger  entered, 
Bringing  in  hurry  and  heat  the  terrible  news 

from  the  village. 
Yes ;  Miles  Standish  was  dead  !  —  an  Indian 

had  brought  them  the  tidings,  — 
Slain  by  a  poisoned  arrow,  shot  down  in  the 

front  of  the  battle, 
Into  an  ambush   beguiled,   cut  off  with   the 

whole  of  his  forces ; 
All  the  town  would  be  burned,  and  all  the 

people  be  murdered  ! 
Such  were  the  tidings  of  evil  that  burst  on  the 

hearts  of  the  hearers. 
Silent  and  statue-like  stood  Priscilla,  her  face 

looking  backward 

Still  at  the  face  of  the  speaker,  her  arms  up- 
lifted in  horror ; 
But  John  Alden,  upstarting,  as  if  the  barb  of 

the  arrow 
Piercing  the  heart  of  his  friend  had  struck  his 

own,  and  had  sundered 
Once  and  forever  the   bonds  that  held   him 


88     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

Taking  each  other  for  husband  and  wife  in  the 
Magistrate's  presence, 

After  the  Puritan  way,  and  the  laudable  cus- 
tom of  Holland. 

Fervently  then,  and  devoutly,  the  excellent 
Elder  of  Plymouth 

Prayed  for  the  hearth  and  the  home,  that  were 
founded  that  day  in  affection, 

Speaking  of  life  and  of  death,  and  imploring 
Divine  benedictions. 

Lo !  when  the  service  was  ended,  a  form  ap- 
peared on  the  threshold, 

Clad  in  armor  of  steel,  a  sombre  and  sorrowful 
figure ! 

Why  does  the  bridegroom  start  and  stare  at 
the  strange  apparition? 

Why  does  the  bride  turn  pale,  and  hide  her 
face  on  his  shoulder? 

Is  it  a  phantom  of  air,  —  a  bodiless,  spectral 
illusion  ? 

Is  it  a  ghost  from  the  grave,  that  has  come  to 
forbid  the  betrothal  ? 

Long  had  it  stood  there  unseen,  a  guest  unin- 
vited, unwelcomed ; 

Over  its  clouded  eyes  there  had  passed  at  times 
an  expression 

Softening  the  gloom  and  revealing  the  warm 
heart  hidden  beneath  them, 


THE  WEDDING-DAY.  89 

As  when  across  the  sky  the  driving  rack  of  the 

rain-cloud 
Grows  for  a  moment  thin,  and  betrays  the  sun 

by  its  brightness. 
Once  it  had  lifted  its  hand,  and  moved  its  lips, 

but  was  silent, 

As  if  an  iron  will  had  mastered  the  fleeting  in- 
tention. 
But  when  were  ended  the  troth  and  the  prayer 

and  the  last  benediction, 
Into  the  room  it  strode,  and  the  people  beheld 

with  amazement 
Bodily  there  in  his  armor  Miles  Standish  the 

Captain  of  Plymouth ! 
Grasping  the  bridegroom's  hand,  he  said  with 

emotion,  "  Forgive  me  ! 
I  have  been  angry  and  hurt,  —  too  long  have 

I  cherished  the  feeling ; 
I  have  been  cruel  and  hard,  but  now,  thank 

God !  it  is  ended. 
Mine  is  the  same  hot  blood  that  leaped  in  the 

veins  of  Hugh  Standish, 
Sensitive,  swift  to  resent,  but  as  swift  in  aton- 
ing for  error. 
Never  so  much  as  now  was  Miles  Standish  the 

friend  of  John  Alden." 
Thereupon   answered  the  bridegroom :  "Let 

all  be  forgotten  between  us,  — 


90      THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 

All  save  the  dear  old  friendship,  and  that  shall 

grow  older  and  dearer !  " 
Then  the  Captain  advanced,  and,  bowing,  sa- 
luted Priscilla, 
Gravely,  and  after  the  manner  of  old-fashioned 

gentry  in  England, 
Something  of  camp  and  of  court,  of  town  and 

of  country,  commingled, 
Wishing  her  joy  of  her  wedding,  and  loudly 

lauding  her  husband. 
Then  he  said  with  a  smile :  "  I  should  have 

remembered  the  adage,  — 
If  you  would  be  well  served,  you  must  serve 

yourself;  and  moreover, 
No  man  can  gather  cherries  in  Kent  at  the 

season  of  Christmas  !  " 

Great   was    the   people's   amazement,   and 

greater  yet  their  rejoicing, 
Thus  to  behold  once  more  the  sun-burnt  face 

of  their  Captain, 
Whom  they  had  mourned  as  dead ;  and  they 

gathered  and  crowded  about  him, 
Eager  to  see  him  and  hear  him,  forgetful  of 

bride  and  of  bridegroom, 
Questioning,    answering,  laughing,   and   each 

interrupting  the  other, 
Till  the  good  Captain  declared,  being  quite 

overpowered  and  bewildered, 


THE  WEDDI&G-BA't. .'     V  &.],  -•'  ; 

He  had  rather  by  f&r  ^break.1  in;;o:  an  i.ixd.iaii',  • 

encampment, 
Than  come  again  to  a  wedding  to  which  he  had 

not  been  invited. 

Meanwhile  the  bridegroom  went  forth  and 

stood  with  the  bride  at  the  doorway, 
Breathing  the  perfumed  air  of  that  warm  and 

beautiful  morning. 
Touched  with  autumnal  tints,  but  lonely  and 

sad  in  the  sunshine, 
Lay  extended  before  them  the  land  of  toil  and 

privation ; 
There  were  the  graves  of  the  dead,  and  the 

barren  waste  of  the  sea-shore, 
There  the  familiar  fields,  the  groves  of  pine, 

and  the  meadows ; 
But  to  their  eyes  transfigured,  it  seemed  as  the 

Garden  of  Eden, 
Filled  with  the  presence  of  God,  whose  voice 

was  the  sound  of  the  ocean. 

Soon  was  their  vision  disturbed  by  the  noise 
and  stir  of  departure, 

Friends  coming  forth  from  the  house,  and  im- 
patient of  longer  delaying, 

Each  with  his  plan  for  the  day,  and  the  work 
that  was  left  uncompleted. 


92     THE  COURTSHIP  OF  MILES  STANDISH. 


TLiQn  rtrom  :4  statt  Re'ar.  at  hand,  amid  exclama- 

tions of  wonder, 
Alden  the  thoughtful,  the  careful,  so  happy,  so 

proud  of  Priscilla, 
Brought  out  his  snow-white  bull,  obeying  the 

hand  of  its.  master. 
Led  by  a  cord  that  was  tied  to  an  iron  ring  in 

its  nostrils, 
Covered  with  crimson  cloth,  and  a  cushion 

placed  for  a  saddle. 
She  should  not  walk,  he  said,  through  the  dust 

and  heat  of  the  noonday  ; 
Nay,  she  should  ride  like  a  queen,  not  plod 

along  like  a  peasant. 
Somewhat  alarmed  at  first,  but  reassured  by 

the  others, 
Placing  her  hand  on  the  cushion,  her  foot  in 

the  hand  of  her  husband, 
Gayly,  with  joyous  laugh,  Priscilla  mounted 

her  palfrey. 
"  Nothing  is  wanting  now,"  he  said  with  a 

smile,  "but  the  distaff; 
Then  you  would  be  in  truth  my  queen,  my 

beautiful  Bertha  !  " 

Onward  the  bridal  procession  now  moved  to 

their  new  habitation, 

Happy  husband  and  wife,,  and  friends  convers- 
ing together. 


THE  WEDDING-DAY.  95 

Pleasantly  murmured  the  brook,  as  they  crossed 
the  ford  in  the  forest, 

Pleased  with  the  image  that  passed,  like  a  dream 
of  love  through  its  bosom, 

Tremulous,  floating  in  air,  o'er  the  depths  of 
the  azure  abysses. 

Down  through  the  golden  leaves  the  sun  was 
pouring  his  splendors, 

Gleaming  on  purple  grapes,  that,  from  branches 
above  them  suspended, 

Mingled  their  odorous  breath  with  the  balm  of 
the  pine  and  the  fir-tree, 

Wild  and  sweet  as  the  clusters  that  grew  in 
the  valley  of  Eschol. 

Like  a  picture  it  seemed  of  the  primitive,  pas- 
toral ages, 

Fresh  with  the  youth  of  the  world,  and  recall- 
ing Rebecca  and  Isaac, 

Old  and  yet  ever  new,  and  simple  and  beautiful 
always, 

Love  immortal  and  young  in  the  endless  suc- 
cession of  lovers. 

So  through  the  Plymouth  woods  passed  on- 
ward the  bridal  procession. 


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